With some notable exceptions, the majority of scientists seem unwilling or unable to engage in the political process. Why?
Earlier this week, more than 100 scientists swapped their lab coats for funeral jackets and walked through Westminster to mourn “the death of British science”.
After carrying a coffin down Whitehall, the group delivered a petition to Number 10 and met with their MPs. They warned that if changes are not made to the way their research is funded, British science will all but disappear. The funeral marked the birth of a new lobby group, Science for the Future.
Tuesday’s stunt was the latest in a series of political protests in the name of science. At the last general election, science writer Michael Brooks stood for parliament in the constituency held by Tory MP David Tredinnick, who believes the NHS should fund treatments that have not been scientifically proven, such as radionics and homeopathy.
Usually, though, pro-science protests are about funding. In response to rumours of cuts in 2010, scientists formed a group called Science is Vital. They donned lab coats and marched on parliament with placards bearing slogans such as, “No more Dr Nice Guy”.
But protests are blunt instruments, organised by campaigners who are often unfamiliar with the policy process. “The average scientist doesn’t appreciate how policy is made or, therefore, how they can influence it,” says Jon Spiers, former policy and campaigns manager at Cancer Research UK. “There’s an attitude that maybe policy is just made up.”
Science policy draws on input from many sources, from science societies and academies (such as the Royal Society and the Institute of Physics) to companies and pressure groups (such as the Campaign for Science and Engineering).
But not enough comes from individuals. Labour’s Andrew Miller and Lib Dem Julian Huppert may be on opposing sides of the House of Commons, but they share the same position on this point. “It is your job as a scientist to take responsibility for public engagement,” says Miller. “Part of that is to ensure that your local MP understands what you’re doing and the relevance and potential public benefits.”
So Miller and Huppert hope to see more and more scientists on this two-way street, long before they resort to funeral flash mobs and funding protests.
Among scientists, though, there is no consensus on how to increase political engagement. Canadian biologist Dr Rees Kassen has written that his fellow scientists fail to communicate clearly enough for the democratic process. And yet they have taken to writing succinct messages on Twitter, which is alive with debate about science. Even the House of Commons science and technology committee is looking at Twitter and considering how it can be involved in their deliberations (meanwhile, you can follow committee adviser @xmalik).
Some scientists are keen to engage in policy. Geneticist Dr Douda Bensasson took part in the Royal Society pairing scheme, which each year pairs up around 15 to 20 researchers with MPs to shadow one another at work. The aim is for scientists to develop an appreciation of political decision-making and for MPs to establish links with practising scientists. But this only works when MPs are willing – the scheme has far more scientists on the books than MPs to pair them with.
Bensasson was signed up for two years without a partner before she took matters into her own hands and contacted her local MP, Lib Dem John Leech. “An MP is more likely to say yes if it’s their own constituents because that’s already part of their job,” says Bensasson, adding that she hopes to take her involvement forward.
Other initiatives include the charity Newton’s Apple, which provides workshops and resources to scientists keen to learn more about policy. Miller, one of the charity’s trustees, thinks that parliament should absorb the organisation. There is a precedent for this: the Parliamentary Office of Science and Technology (Post), which publishes independent reports on upcoming science issues to all parliamentarians, started out as an external charity until it was brought in-house in 1993.
Post continues to draw scientists to parliament, by consulting them when writing its reports on such issues as low-carbon technologies and the impact of video games. Post also employs practising researchers through a fellowship scheme, run in conjunction with science societies and charities to give PhD students the chance to spend three months in parliament.
This is exactly the kind of experience Beccy Cummings, a biology PhD student at Liverpool Univesity, has tried to get since she heard a former Post fellow speak at a careers event. “If it wasn’t for that conference, I don’t think I would even know that Post existed,” she says. As the speaker reeled off some of the issues Post has covered, from climate change to genetic testing, Cummings realised a Post fellowship would give her a foothold in parliament. “That was more interesting than just signing petitions,” she says.
But she has so far failed to win one of the fellowships, which can attract up to 80 applicants per scheme. Hopefuls with little experience in science communication may be at a disadvantage as the application requires them to write a brief report for parliamentarians on a science topic of their choice. The fact is that few junior researchers have ever had to do anything like this. According to Cummings, science is still seen as focused on study and little else, a perception she finds when she goes to speak to schoolchildren about the various paths a science degree can open up.
“The kids have got no idea,” she says. “I just keep saying to them, ‘everything has a scientist in it’. The universities are the same in that they maybe don’t branch out as much as they could.” Cummings says of her own undergraduate degree in bioveterinary science at the University of Liverpool, which does not touch upon policy, “The more I think about it, the more I think it could have included so much more.”
At a higher level, the career path of a scientist effectively blocks political involvement. Bensasson says: “After my PhD, I ? went very quiet politically because I had to publish my papers and get a faculty position. Unfortunately for scientists, activity [in politics] is recognised but it’s not as important as getting grants or publishing papers.”
It is these career pressures on scientists that Science for the Future blames for the low turnout at Tuesday’s protest. Of the 8,000 researchers funded by the Engineering and Physical Sciences Research Council, whose actions they were protesting against, only 100 could be persuaded to attend. “A number of my colleagues were afraid to be here,” said Tuesday’s organiser, Professor Tony Barrett. “Retribution. They’re concerned that their future grant proposals will be in danger.”
Others may have stayed quiet because they disagree with Barrett’s style and the approach he and his fellow campaigners took on Tuesday. Amid a backlash on Twitter and the blogosphere, Professor Athene Donald of Cambridge University argued: “They are not representing all of ‘us’ and many of ‘us’ do not agree with their stunt.”
Barrett’s coffin was carried by a family of angry scientists. But as the next spending review looms, science’s extended family looks divided.
For every Barrett, Bensasson or Cummings, there are thousands of scientists unwilling or unable to become involved. And yet scientists’ recent video appeal to GM protesters, arguments about action on climate change and Tuesday’s rally all show that science exists in a political world.
Like it or not, scientists, sometimes you have to swap the pipette for the placard.
Source: http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2012/may/18/scientists-duty-pipette-placard